The Herald of the Bonfire
by Brendanjoke
Summary: Short stories revolving around the Emerald Herald conversing with the wandering residents of Majula as the Bearer of the Curse continues his journey across Drangleic.
1. The Herald and The Crestfallen

She stands, tending to the flames. The empty vast land of Majula has been empty for a time too long. Much of the days spent looking upwards to the orange skies, the Age of Fire once again in risk of fading. The Darksign branding the Undead just as before. She'd seen many come, and many go. The word Monarch, each and every day becoming little less of a title to her and more of another sign to label the Hollows. For though they have gone, they never came back, at least without their sanity intact.

So she waits, the day where the next Monarch would arrive has yet to come, but till that day, here she will remain.

"Have you not grown tiresome? A normal man would've realize the futility of their task long ago."

She turned to the side, and as always a tall monumental structure, a small remembrance of a battle fought not long ago, was there to face her. And underneath it, walks a man. His silver, shining armor of a knight, show signs of dents and bruises, each with a story of their own of encounters he'd face from months and maybe years past. Despite his heavy armor, his head remains exposed, revealing the kind face of a lost soul, now shriveled and dim.

"If one were wise, they'd simply stop."

His boots tread upon the dirt surrounding the Bonfire, encased by rough, jagged rocks of different size and shape. He took a look at her, standing ever so still, her long emerald robe blowing softly in the wind, and sat down on one of the few rocks with a smooth surface.

"It is only logical after all..."

When he received no answer, he turn his attention to the Bonfire. And together they stare into the flames.

A safe haven for the Undead. A sign of solace and comfort in a place so forsaken and treacherous, the Bonfire of Majula acts as a safe retreat for the Undead. A place where one could rest, be at ease, and to collect their thoughts before once again heading out to transverse the land of Drangleic. Many had rested here, and many had been reborn here. She had seen them come and go, and so has he. Like many others, he too found it hard to will himself to go, and soon after, the dangers ahead had finally broken his resolve, and he has been here ever since.

The flames slowly sways and flows, rising high, as if dancing along with the wind. Occasionally, embers would detach from the fire, floating in the air, before slowly disappearing. The knight noticing this, gave an amuse sigh.

"Sadly poetic, is it not?"

She at first couldn't decipher the meaning of his words. Only after seeing a few more embers dissipate did she realize. And she too found it slightly amusing. Though she didn't show it.

"Embers of the fire, souls of men, the differences lay thin."

The knight remained staring at the fire.

"It's dying."

She gave a quick glance at his direction, his posture remains the same as ever, be it on the monument or here. His knees supporting his arms, a hand clasping the other with his face leaning against it. Almost as if in prayer. She too, found that fact amusing.

"A small spark is enough, should the flame fade."

The things she talks of, he knows all too well.

"Where would one find this spark? You've seen many, and many times you've been sure they will be the one. Only to succumbed to the curse, like many before them."

She of course knew of his disdain towards her actions but knew of it as a necessary evil. That is why he does all he can to discourage the Undead to abandon the task of curing the Curse. For he knows that Hollowing is what would come of it in the end, sooner or later. But of course, many shrug him off, thinking of him as a fool to embrace the curse, and look towards her for guidance.

"Undead seek to undo the curse. I seek to bring an end to it. The spark hides in the Undead. And only I can draw it out, if they should let me."

"An Undead, not the Undead. Only one is capable of challenging the Four Great Ones. Someone you have yet to find..." He said.

"Nothing will come out of this. I ask that you not speak of my duty any longer. The Monarch will come, I feel it deep within."

The knight merely shook his head.

"Ahh yes, what is it that you call them... Ahh, Bearer of the Curse, is it not? A rather foul way to brand your Monarchs." and gave a slight chuckle.

She did not find his words amusing, not one bit. Her lips tighen in irritation, only slightly, to not display her true emotions. She waited for him to silence, before speaking once again.

"Need not you forget, that you were once a Monarch as well, crestfallen as you may be."

A sigh escapes his lips, he didn't need to be reminded of it, but realized he had it coming.

"Crestfallen yes, but not Hollow. Better than how most Monarchs wind up being."

That's when She offered her say in the matter.

"All Hollows were once Undead, just like yourself. Helping them on their journey in spite of how hopeless you find it, will differ the outcome of their fate."

He lifted his head, for the first time in their conversation, and stared straight at her. And for once, She was looking right back.

"Could it be that you... are in need of my help?" He asked.

"I only ask that you consider." She said, and turn back to the fire.

He too return to staring at the flames, seriously considering her request. The Curse is something he'd be glad to rid of. But to talk and maybe even help fellow Undead to fulfill this wish, to have hope once again, in a long, long time. Only to see them go Hollow, only to have hope fade away again. Why, is almost as bad as going Hollow himself.

But in spite of this, It couldn't hurt to try, at least once.

So with his mind made up, he slowly got back up and turn back towards the Monument, to where he'll always be, but not before stopping to address Her once more.

"Fine, I'll lend a hand, a word of advice even. But only for the next and no more... Heavens know I'll go mad."

And with that, he set off, back to his original position. Leaving Her alone once again, tending to flames forevermore. Waiting for the day, for when her next Monarch would come.


	2. The Herald and The Merchant

"H-Hello! My name is-is Maughlin, I'm a merchant, I sell an a-assortment of armor. W-would you be interested in s-some? N-Not that yours doesn't suit you, of course. Heh-Heh."

Those were the words He introduced himself with, along with a respectable bow afterwards. She thought of him as rather peculiar. Showing up all the sudden, from the gaping hole in the rocks where all other Undead take their first steps into Majula.

When She spotted him, walking along the trail towards the Bonfire, taking quick glances at his surrounding, a frightened look on his face, Her spirits immediately rose. It has been a month since another Undead arrived, another Monarch.

Of course, his introduction caught Her rather off guard. If She was expecting anything, it wasn't to be talked into buying armour. She kept her mouth shut and waited for him to finish, and from the corner of Her eye, She sees the Knight on the monument, casually looking onward, curiosity filling his sullen face.

"So, uh, a-anyway. I-I'd really appreciate it if you took a look at my wares, I r-really need the business nowadays."

His timid behavior reminded Her of that of a small puppy She saw once when She was young. Of course, She had only ever seen one.

The Dragon Aerie was a place where leaving undetected was almost an impossibility. But that one chance she had, she went down and found herself in a Keep, after finding a young dragon lying in a deep sleep in what seemed to be a cage. There, she bear witness to many atrocities, hanging high above in cages, all twisted and malformed in grotesque ways. And in a small cage, in a corner, on top of a small shelf, a small puppy lies.

It's thin, frail body lying motionless in its prison, small bits of fur scattered around the cage and its eyes. So forlorn, so afraid, whimpering at the mere sight of her. A pitiful sight in a room filled with such horror. Her heart went out for it, for she knows the pain of being held captive far too well.

But before she could reach her hand out to offer the slightest bit of comfort she can, a shout filled the air, one coated with such anger and ferocity that she was taken aback by the sound of it. She caught sight of her Captor, his enraged expression visible from afar. She knew she wasn't supposed to be there, but couldn't will herself to move, fear keeping her rooted to the spot. It was only after her Captor hastily grabbed hold of her hand and pulled her back did her legs finally respond. To be brought back to her prison, her own cage, deep in the Dragon Aerie. Shut away from the rest of the world for none to see. A failed experiment, like all the rest.

Watching this Undead here now, shifting uncomfortably in the silence, She couldn't help but be slightly amused by the similarities.

"Forgive me, young Undead. But the armor of men interest me none." She finally responded, giving a slight bow.

"O-Oh... I-I see... T-That's a s-shame then." He said, disappointment visible in his eyes. "I-I'll go search f-for another customer."

He took a step forward, and hope again began to fill his eyes, catching sight of a man sitting on the base of the Monument.

"Regrettably, that Knight lost sight of his goal long ago and has retired his sword. Your wares are better suited elsewhere." She said before he could walk a step further.

"I... I see, I'll... I'll search around then. There's bound to be someone who'd be interested, right?"

But after a few minutes of walking around the barren land of Majula, the Merchant finally realized that there was no one else. Save for a cat in a decrepit house, sleeping soundly on an old table. But only a Hollow would try talking to a cat. At this point, the small glimmer in his eyes had finally faded and in his frustration, plopped himself against a rock in defeat.

Seeing the state He's in, She was once again reminded of the puppy and before she knew it, She had already left the vicinity of the bonfire and was heading towards him, surprising the Knight and Herself in the process. Once there, She slowly laid her knees onto the soft grass and made eye contact with him.

"Where do you hail?" She asked.

With a tired voice, he replied.

"V-Volgen. The land of t-the Falconers."

It didn't take long since his arrival for Her to realize that curing the Curse wasn't ultimately his goal. So, She decided to question him further on that.

"Why have you come here?"

"T-To sell my wares... B-Business is s-scarce where I come from. S-so I travel from land to land and somehow e-ended up here."

"What is it that you long for?"

At that, He fell silence. Something that he longed for? Of course he knew it, but even someone like himself knew that that wish is something only one can dream of.

"A fortune." He simply said and looked away.

That is when She had an idea. Her next Monarch, whenever they may arrive, they would most likely be ill equipped for the journey ahead of them and would be in need of extra protection. And here a Merchant sits, right in front of her, offering armour and in desperate need of customers. It's a situation where both parties benefit.

"Young Undead." She called, drawing his attention towards Her again. "If a fortune is what you seek, then it'd be best if you remain here."

He looked at Her, bemused. "H-huh? W-Why?"

"Many Undead eventually find themselves travelling here. Most with their clothing torn and tattered. If they were to see a merchant, surely you understand."

When She was done, the spark in his eyes reignited with a vengeance and his wearied body seemed to have been brought back to life by Her words.

"Yeah... yeah! T-That's a g-great idea! But, where would I reside?" He asked.

She slowly got back up on her feet and gazed at all the old abandoned buildings in the area, her eyes stopped at a small building, the leftmost of them all and pointed at it.

"You may reside there, if you wish."

He turned his head to where She pointed and caught sight of it. A small little hut, with a roof made of shambled pieces of wood, parts of the stone wall tainted black. Nevertheless, his face slowly formed into a smile.

"I-I... Yes, I'll set up shop at once..." He then turned to Her and gave a bow. "I-I'm deeply g-grateful for this, I t-thank you!" And began heading towards the hut, his spirits lifted.

She watched him as he stood in awe at his storefront before taking his first steps inside. A small feeling of content swam throughout her body as She headed back to the Bonfire, resuming Her duties once again, to wait for Her Monarch once more.


	3. The Knightess and The Curse

"My name is... Lucatiel"

The rays of the sun shines through, a beacon of hope in this vast, treacherous cavern she found herself in. Filled with countless Hollows, Ogres, and a rather large coffin she saw from afar.

"I come from Mirrah... A land in the far east."

The journey through the mountains was one without peril. For days on end, she faced many adversities, some of which far exceeds her own skill to overcome. But through sheer willpower and a goal she resolved to see through to the end, she pulled through.

"A land of knights."

Across the decaying forest, home to many nightmarish beasts, where the supposed ruins of the land long forgotten is said to be located. A place of everlasting rain, pouring relentlessly over her journey.

And finally, the still lake. A place of calm and peaceful silent. A stark contrast to what she faced before. The quietness draws a sense of unease into her as she made her way to a boat she noticed on the shore. And a little further away, she sees yet another but didn't think much of it. A man's broken resolve perhaps.

Rowing across the lake, ripples appearing in the water with each swipe, she took this chance to delve her thoughts further into the rumors. A land filled to the brim with immense souls, some too powerful to even comprehend and the home to what might just be the only cure for the Curse. Drangleic.

Being branded with the Darksign, She soon realized that Hollowing was an inevitable fate for her as it is for all Undead, and for the first time in her life, she was afraid. She searched far and wide for a cure, a saying, a prophecy, anything. That was when she heard of it. In a shabby old hut, deep in the bowels of Mirrah. From a strange hooded old hag coated in black, with eyes that give off a blank stare. The rumor of a cure hidden away in a place of old. The rumor that she hold with such high regard despite the little evidence for its truthfulness. The very same rumor that brought her to the ends of the world and back again, to be led here now.

Entering a crumbled, expansive archway, its ruins soaring high in the moonlit sky, rooted on a piece of land in the middle of the lake. She made her way through the collapsed ruins, her boots treading upon gray dirt and bones to find a tree. Its branches leafless and decaying along with it's trunk. And behind just lies more pieces of a broken civilization.

Her heart sunk deep into her chest at the pitiful sight of what she had uncovered and was about to curse her fate before noticing a faint glow emanating from its thin vine-like branches. Upon closer inspection, she realized that a sprinkle of fireflies had inhabited the tree and were all glowing in unison.

She took a step closer and then another, wishing to have a closer look. Then suddenly, the fireflies rose into the air, scattering all around like leaves on a windy day, before all at once rushing out of the archway, igniting the torches hung upon each wall, stopping once when they reach the lake, floating high above the water.

Bemused by this, She followed suit, running past the archway, nearing the edge of the lake. Once there, she felt the ground shake beneath her and what soon followed was a miasma of dark mist emerging from the murky depths of the lake, chasing away the fireflies and rocking her boat in the process.

She immediately got on guard and unsheathed her sword at her side, preparing to give offense if necessary. The mist broke off into singular pieces and began flying off in multiple directions. The lake too seemed to come alive as a raging whirlpool consumed her boat into the darkness inside it.

With her sword still in hand, she attempts to cut the darkness zooming past her as she slowly makes her way closer to the edge. After multiple tries, she realized the futility of her actions and stops her attack, instead deciding to peer into the whirlpool.

For some odd reason, an urge to jump into the darkness below took hold of her mind and soon assumed a jumping position. A small part of her attempts to resist the urge but was soon overwhelmed. She thought back to why she was here in the first place, and after another moment's hesitation, jumped.

"My brother..."

Her eyes stung from the rays of the sun and instinctively raised her hand to defend it. Taking her first steps into a land unbeknownst to her, exiting through the very same crack she saw when she first awoke.

In the cavern, when she woke, she found herself walking across a grassy plain brighten by light filtering through the rocks far up ahead and soon came across 3 strange old women, sitting in a hut with a young handmaid watching over them to the side. Images of the old hag flashed into her mind for a instant, before the eccentricity of her plight vanish those thoughts as soon as they came.

For some odd reason or another, the women were amused by her sudden appearance through the door. She questioned them about the cure and was met with only laughter.

With her hand still held high above her head, she makes her way down the dirt path, for once feeling safe in the warmth of the rising sun.

She still remembered the words the 3 old hags had said to her. They called her many things, a fool even for coming here. And they laugh, how'd they laugh. In spite of their mockery, she held her anger in and persisted on the cure, desperate to learn anything about it. But they laughed even more, an old weary laugh. That was when one of them muttered the words she never wanted to hear.

All because of those words. That 1 sentence consisting of just three measly words was enough to aggravate her to the point of cursing them and walking out on them, slamming the door behind her in her wake and deeper into the cavern. Those 3 simple yet terrifying words.

"You'll go Hollow."

She gritted her teeth at the thought of this, both as a way to vent her anger and an indicator that she can still in fact, feel pain.

"U-Uh umm, Sir! Would you h-happened to be interested in buying some..."

The words of a nervous fellow snapped her from her thoughts, and turned her head in an instant, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of a person in a land she thought empty.

The man she now faced, turned slightly pale at a glance of her and stood frozen still, in shock with his mouth hanging mid-sentence.

"P-Pardon me, S-Sir. F-Forgive me for my disturbance." He finally said, slowly backing off into an old building, to where she assume he resides.

She knew the reason for his behavior towards her, but even so, it can't be helped. The Curse has done it's work with her, and hiding behind a mask is a more preferably decision than letting others see what she has become. Despite the rather strange first encounter with another Undead, She was glad to just see another soul in sight, even if she herself finds comfort in the company of none.

The encounter also lifted her spirits, finding his reactions a tad bit amusing, and resumed her walk, only for her spirits to be soared up even higher. For staring in front of her, just meters away, a bonfire lies. It's flames swaying and flowing, almost as if welcoming her. She adjusted her mask to assert herself of its existence and after a quick moment of assurance, began to slowly walk to it, over the rocks surrounding it, till finally, she was standing over it.

She drew a huge breath and felt as all the pent up tension and frustration leave her body, and in its place, peace and tranquility lay. She slowly raised her hand and hovered it inches above the old coiled sword. A sudden gush of warm light washed over her body as the flames glow slightly brighter and she retracted her hand, sitting herself down onto the ground.

But before she could close her eyes and drift off into thought, she hears a voice.

"Undead are we? Well, what a time to arrive. She'd be joyous to know another one washed up here."

Her eyes open in an instant and began scanning around for the owner of the voice, but not a single person was there.

"Down here, Sir. Though you may find your discovery rather shocking."

She sets her eyes to the rocks in front of her and made contact with a set of ocean blue eyes.

"Meow." It said.

Taken aback, she stood up and took a few steps backwards, left speechless by the surrealism of the situation.

"Have... Have I gone mad?" She muttered.

On a rock on the opposite side, sits a cat with snowy white fur, streaks of dark gray at certain areas of its body.

"Female... Forgive me, your attire suggested otherwise."

"How is this-"

"There are stranger things here than talking to a cat." It said "You'll soon find out. Drangleic is a place of anomalies after all."

All traces of shock instantly vanished as soon as those words were spoken, replaced by a sense of realization.

"Drang- Drangleic? This is Drangleic?"

"Of course. Where else were you expecting to end up? Vinheim?

The last one, she didn't quite understand but brushed it off, seeking answers. She sat back down, still staring at the cat who perked Its head to the side.

"Concerning places, where do you come from?" It asked.

"I come from Mirrah. A land in the far east. Never mind that now, Do the rumors hold true? A cure... does it... exist?"

"Ah yes, the cure for the Undead Curse. You're not the first to seek it out. Yes, a cure can be found, provided you are capable."

As soon as she heard that, the tighten knots in her chest started to unravel, and a huge sigh escape her lips.

"Finally, after so long, finally... I'm grateful for this information."

"Oh-Ho, I wouldn't start celebrating yet if I were you..." It said.

Before she could inquire more about Its words, the cat leaped from Its resting place to the dirt down below and made Its way towards to her. Once there, It took a quick whiff at her direction and after while, shook Its head.

"A rather foul stench..." It muttered.

The Knightess stared, perplexed. "Excuse me?"

"No, She'd just be wasting her time with you, best not to disturb her."

She was growing more confused by the second and also quite irritated, wishing It'd stop speaking in riddles. "Who? Why do you say this? Explain."

For a response, the cat turn turn itself backwards and lifted a paw forward. Directing her sight to a dead tree overlooking a cliff a short distance , and under its leafless branches, a hooded figure she saw, facing the cliff side, sitting, leaning against its decaying trunk.

"Poor Dear spent many sleepless nights awaiting an Undead's footstep to arrive. If you must know, She tends to the very fire you're resting upon. A keeper of sorts if you will. She directs Undead seeking to cure themselves to the right direction. But even She has her limits." It gave an amused chuckle before speaking further.

"Took a second to admire the view, and found herself so entrance by it apparently, that sleep came in an instant. I'm merely watching over the Bonfire in her place, only temporary, till she wakes. Then I scurry myself back to my own place, right there." It said, turning Its paw to one of the building at the other end.

"Shabby, but it's home. That's more than most Undead can say." Finishing, with a hint of fondness.

"Then why not wake Her? Are you implying I'm not of worth to speak to Her?" She questioned.

The cat gave a sigh, a long tired sigh.

"Isn't it obvious? The journey ahead is unfit for one such as yourself. You lack the spirit, lack the strength. Drawing out Her power would simply be a waste. Come now, surely you know it as well, what would become of you in the end."

Her eyes met the cat's. Growing restless by the second by Its talk, and it only got worse as It spoke once again.

"You'll go Hollow."

A huge puff of air blew through her nose, her blood turning to a boil, but maintain what little composure she has left.

"What makes you so sure? How do you know what I am and not capable of? Surely I deserve a chance. I made this far, doesn't that prove anything?" She tried to steady her voice and wondered if it came out as she had intended to.

"Yes..." It said "It proves your desperate, like all Undead. What of it? Many littler than yourself had made it this far themselves and all went Hollow. How are you so different from them, might I ask?"

"I just am!"

She didn't mean to shout, but it was already too late. Here she was, on her feet again, huffing and puffing huge gulps of air, staring daggers at the accursed feline.

"I will not go Hollow. I will cure this wretched disease. I will succeed. I swear it."

The words she had spoken, she made sure she was loud and clear, so even that timid young man could hear her vow from his hut. But despite the resonance her words left throughout the area, the hooded figure did not stir in the slightest.

"Well..." It said, mildly taken aback by the sudden outburst. "We'll just have to see, won't we?"

Resolving to prove this animal wrong, she stared at It dead in the eye and spoke, accepting the unspoken challenge. "We will."

Over the course of a few minutes, with the sun staying stagnant in the sky, the feline told her of a place holding a being she would have to face in order to prove herself.

"An island far to the north, a place where Undead are locked up and kept away as a way to try and contain the Curse. There you'll find a Knightess, one like yourself, driven mad by guilt, hidden deep within The Bastille. Emerge victorious and only then may you come back here, as Her next Monarch." It said, swishing It's tail.

She nodded her head, with no sign of hesitation.

"Show me the way." She said.

Its tail halted towards a trail at the cliff edge, at the direction of where she came from, but trailing downwards, deeper inside the land.

"The Forest of Giants is a good place to start, if any. But if a direct route is what you wish for-"

The tail swished to the front and pointed to her direction, off to the left of where she's sitting. If she hadn't been staring, she would have missed it. For far ahead, a small stone doorway also leading downwards lies.

"The Tower of Flames leads to the Wharf, you can take the ship and sail straight on to the island. But beware, danger lies no matter which path you take. Choose wisely."

But she was already moving about by this point, having chosen her path, aiming to prove not only to that cat that she's capable, but to herself.

"Oh yes!" The cat suddenly said. "Mirrah, wasn't it?"

She kept on walking but answered anyway. "Yes."

"Funny, sometime ago, a Knight also hailing from Mirrah arrived here as well. Dressed just like you, in fact. He too was searching for a cure."

Its words brought her footsteps to a halt.

She couldn't believe it, long has she heard any news regarding him. The most decorated swordsman in all of Mirrah, vanish, gone, left without a trace. Not even a word to his own Sister. Rumors suggest he contracted the Curse and fled in search of a cure.

When she got here, she pin down all hopes regarding finding her brother here. The chances were too slim. But now, everything's change.

"Brother..." She muttered. "You are here." and after a moment's realization, broke into a sprint towards the doorway and soon vanished into it.

It chuckled at her tenacity to prove herself. With a stench like that, everything she do would be for naught and It knows It quite well.

As it lays back down on the rocks, her ears suddenly twitch, sensing another presence, and loud metallic clunking of boots.

"You took longer that one would normally think. What have you been up to?" It turn It's head to the entrance of the forest, hearing the clunking grow louder and louder along with some grunting. It was a moment before It received an answer.

"Just thought I wonder about is all, and stumbled upon this."

The figure of the knight grew clearer and beside it, was another person, skin decaying a dark green. Someone It could barely recognize and was surprise to see again, still sane no less. He had his arm around the Knight's neck and appeared to be struggling.

"I found him in the cave leading to the Forest. I'm still astounded myself." Said the Knight, through deep breaths.

"The Curse affected him greatly in his venture." It said.

That was when he finally spoke. "My key... I still haven't found it. Is in the Forest, I know it is. Someone must have taken it."

The Knight lowered him down next to his shop near the Bonfire.

"Dear old Blacksmith... Your key has yet to turn up for months now. Giving up on it now would be wise." He said.

"Regardless of the state he's in, She would be joyous to know of his return." It said, and turned to the sleeping figure. "I believe this warrants the disturbance of her slumber. Go wake her up, Knight. I'm going back to have my own rest."

And with that, she jumped to the ground and walked back to her home.

It turned back to once to see, the Knight going up to Her and having trouble deciding of the best way to wake Her up. His arm reaching forward to touch her only to bring it back up to go at another angle, uncertainty plastered across his face.

It chuckled at the sight of this, and as It recounted her talk with the Knightess, chuckled even more.

"Won't be long now..." It muttered, reaching Its house. "Your Monarch will come very soon, my Dear, very soon."


	4. The Herald and Her Monarch

How long has it been since another Undead had passed through the crack? Even She does not know, not anymore. The convoluted days had finally come as Time literally tangles around itself. Figures of beings from ages long past appearing in forms of ghostly white phantoms, most visible when nearing the Fire. The sun had neither set nor rise, its position frozen beyond the orange horizon.

But yet, in spite of all this, Her hope has not yet faltered. The Monarch will come and She shall guide him, strengthen him, and assist him in whatever way she can. And in return, He will set things right, He will complete the task, and He shall Link the Flame.

And She won't be the only one to aid the Monarch. For although the land of Majula remains a barren one, nowadays, it has been showing signs of life. The Blacksmith has return at last from his quest for his key and has remained sitting against the wall of his shop, refusing to move, despite Her offering a place by the Bonfire. A Cartographer showed up one day, taking up residence in the Majula Mansion but left shortly after, with a wish of drawing a map of Drangleic.

Among others that came and gone over the course of her duty, includes a Sorcerer and his apprentice seeking to hone their knowledge of Sorcery and Pyromancy in the land of Drangleic, or so he says as they walk off into the stone doorway leading to the Tower of Flame. She hasn't heard from them since, and hopes they'd come back soon. An ambitious young lady with peculiar looking stones. She had hoped in persuading her to stay, but Her words fell on deaf ears as she sought to further her ambitions and left. A women in cloth, wishing to spread the wondrous art of Miracles, left as soon as she arrived towards the Tower of Flame. And many, many more.

All that remain are Herself, The Knight, The Feline, The Merchant, and The Blacksmith.

With all these encounters in such little time, She conclude that the gears of Fate had finally begun to turn and waited in anticipation for Her Monarch. Only to get nothing, not one has passed through the rocks in such a long time.

So now, She stands, finding herself gazing at the view underneath the dead tree more and more as the days go by. She finds it soothes her spirits, watching the waves, the wind blowing softly as time slowly goes by.

And in her thoughts, fails to notice a figure slowly approaching her at a pace of a slight jog. It was only after hearing the crunching of grass beside her, did she look. And from the corner of her eye, a silent face met her. His clothing dirtied, sword in hand and his hair a mess. His face a blank stare.

To guide the Undead. That is her duty. As it always has been. This Undead should be no different from the others, and yet, a strange feeling, one filled with such certainty, more than any other She faced before, stirs inside Her.

"Are you...the next monarch?" She said, initiating. "Or merely a pawn of fate?"

The Bonfire had been touched, by Him. The flames not only glowing brighter, but stronger as well, stronger than any Undead that have come before. How She realized this, without facing the Fire, she does not know. Being link to the Fire, detecting the souls of Undead that had rested in its warmth was a normal thing for Her. But not only could she sense him, but She could also feel him. His breathing, the warmth of His body, the state of His spirit. All within the strengthen flames. Something... she couldn't explain why.

"Bearer of the Curse..."

She had hoped many times, only to be proven wrong over and over again. A cycle of Her own doing. A cycle, if She were truly honest, had grown weary of.

"I will remain by your side."

And yet, here She is again, hoping, that maybe this time...

"Until this frail hope shatters."

He might just be the one. The one She can truly stand beside.

"Take this with you." She reached into her robes and pulled out a dull green flask, the last and only one she has left. "May it ease you on your journey."

Almost mechanically, He reached out and took the flask from her hands, still not uttering a word, and remained staring.

"Go on, and see the King." She said, lowering her hands to the side. "He who made Drangleic what it once was. He who peered at the essence of the soul. King Vendrick."

Her eyes shut, just for a moment and saw a small white flame, burning dimly, barely lighting the darkness. Her heart sunk at the sight of this. This was not the soul she had hoped of seeing. She had envisioned a bright light, one so blinding that It'd chase the Darkness away. Not this, a simple man's soul. Not even Her previous Monarchs had a soul this pitiful.

Nevertheless, She would strengthen that flame, stoke it, till even the King would be beyond compared. But the journey would be one with much suffering, He would have to venture the lands, seek its Masters and conquer them as well in order to burn greatly within.

"Bearer of the Curse." She began. "Seek misery. For misery would lead you to greater, stronger souls. You will never meet the King with a soul so frail and pallid."

"Seek those whose names are unutterable, the Four endowed with immense souls. Their souls will serve as beacons."

How many times had She reiterated these same words to others, She lost count long ago. Her voice grew slightly hoarse by the thought of this as She spoke again.

"Once you have found them, return here to Me. So that hope will not fade away."

And the next, words that She had only uttered to five others before Him, words that She will continue to utter, so as to reaffirm His quest, lest He forgets.

"Bearer of the Curse... Seek souls. Larger, more powerful souls. Seek the King, that is the only way. Lest this land swallow you whole... as it has so many others."

When She was done, He stood motionless for a moment, before slowly walking past her. The tower catching His attention, and engaged conversation with The Knight resting upon it. He took his time exploring the Land of Majula, making it a point to engage the residents if He spotted some. From The Knight to The Blacksmith, from The Blacksmith to The timid Merchant and from there, to the aged house at the far end, to where It resides.

This She found amusing. Not all Undead go their way to explore this barren waste. Most would be content enough to be pointed at the right direction, in search for the Cure. Come to think of it, He hadn't even questioned Her about it. Turning Her slight smile, into a discreet frown. Has he even come here in search for it? Were her words wasted on this mute Undead?

She shut these thoughts away as She watches him exit the house, the same expressionless stare on His face. Another thing She found peculiar, most would be taken aback after exiting that house, but He seemed unfazed by it, as if it was a normal occurrence for Him.

It was a while before He departed for the Forest, and during His stay, had made an impression on everyone He encountered, some better than others.

"A peculiar one, this Undead." Said the Knight, walking down the stone steps leading down to the Bonfire. "But as promised, I offered sound advice. I told him about the Four Great Ones and even made Him aware of the Blue Sentinels. Though I wonder what good it'd bring. All the while I have been speaking, all he did was stare. If I didn't know any better, I'd say His on the verge of Hollowing already."

She gave a slight bow at his direction and spoke.

"Even so, I thank you for assisting. It need not matter how trivial your actions may be, so long as it helps."

He took a sit at the Bonfire and sighed. "He left for the Forest... Poor soul. The Pursuer does not take kindly to Undead."

A gruff voice gave him a reply. "Him. He did me in a couple of times while I was searching for my key. If this traveler finds it, I'll gladly lend him my hammer."

"If months of worthless floundering bear no results. What makes you think a mere Undead from some unknown land will have success?" Challenged The Knight.

"Astora." Came a voice drawing near. "He looks of Astorian blood."

"Haven't heard of it." Said the Blacksmith.

It leaped onto the rocks and gave a chuckle. "And you shouldn't. It is a land forgotten by men throughout the ages. But its bloodline still exist, quite a rarity really."

"Do the people of Astora also have a tendency to not utter a single word?" Asked the Knight.

"No. Just Him." It said matter of factly.

The Knight shrugs his shoulders in response and there was no more talk.

As they stared in silence at the Fire, She couldn't help but be amused by the situation at hand. The four of them, the thoughts of one single Undead on their minds when normally they'd just brush His existence from their minds, especially It. Only one missing now is the Merchant, and wonders what was his impression of Him.

"Thou who art Undead art chosen." It uttered spontaneously, earning strange looks from both men and even a puzzled expression from Her.

"In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the Land of Ancient Lords." It continued, amused by their reactions. "When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know." It finished.

It was a while before any of them responded.

"A prophecy, is it? From Astora?" She inquired, when none of them spoke.

It nodded It's head in approval. "Yes indeed. The discussion made me recall of it. I'm surprised I can still even recite it."

"And what deemed it necessary to speak of a long forgotten prophecy?" Asked the Knight.

Hearing that, It turned its head to look at Her, and gave Her a smile. "His scent."

Her cool and calm facade broke for a second. "He's-... You mean... He is?"

The Knight was taken aback by this, having no idea what It means by that.

"Well, not entirely. It was barely even there. But yes, His scent is of one befitting the Flame. Just like other Linkers of the Fire before him." It said.

"So have I finally found it? Would he be the one to seek the Fire? Is my duty reaching its end?" She continued asking, ignoring the stares from the Knight and the Smith.

It chuckled at her behavior, seeing Her like this is quite a sight indeed. "Be calm, Dear. It is still the beginning of His journey. To set fate in stone, you must be the one to guide Him, do not lose sight. And remember, He still has the choice to renounce it, just like some others before Him."

Despite She herself hoping to find her True Monarch, having been told that she had indeed found him, after so long, was too much for even Her to handle and only just realized the strangeness of her behavior and looked to the side, attempting to hide her embarrassment in the face of others.

"Forgive me... I was... I simply needed confirmation. You will not see me act like that again." She said quietly.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then the Smith let out a hearty chuckle. "Nothing wrong with wanting answers, It's fine, It's reassuring to know that you can in fact, show emotion. You're human, after all."

She turned to the Knight, only to find him already walking up towards the tower.

"Forgive me." She said. "You most likely had no clue of our conversation."

But the Knight, still walking forward, brushed it off with a wave of his hand. "I don't really care." He said. "I'm simply... crestfallen."


	5. The Herald and The Man

The Forest of Fallen Giants.

The starting point for many, a place where lush greenery lavish and flourished, with rocks and trees consumed by the thick green moss found everywhere in the area. To most, many may find the sight calming, maybe even finding a peaceful serenity in the view. But as beautiful as it may be, its past is one filled with such unnecessary sorrow and suffering, it nearly single-handedly brought the once prosperous Kingdom of the province to ruins. A field of intense war fought between the Giants and Mankind, brought about by a stolen relic.

The battle waged on for the longest time, casualties rising on either side, till finally the Giants retreated back to their land, having lost the war. Mankind emerged victorious, but there wasn't much to cheer about. Soon after, when humanity was still recovering, the Curse began spread like wildfire all across the Land, finishing off the Kingdom and its people.

Now, only remnants of the lost Kingdom and its battle with the Giants remains to tell the tale. The trees of the forest, once the proud bodies of the fierce Giants that ravaged the land, now reduced to nothing more than a empty husk of its former self. And underneath those trees, the fallen hollowed warriors wanders about, swinging their swords in hand to the slightest movement they see, still fighting a war long past. Due to this, many had met tragic ends in these woods. One by one, She sent them off, only to fail at the slightest danger, incapable for the task forced upon the Undead.

So when Her Monarch failed to return in the time She unawarely set for Him, dreaded thoughts began to invade her mind, each more horrendous than the last. It wasn't long before the paranoia set in, and as a way to ease the growing tension, she began moving her fingers about in her clasped hands, mere speculation no longer able to satiate her burning desire to know of His outcome.

"You alright there, Lady?" The Blacksmith took a step towards the Fire, concern visible on his decaying face.

She immediately brought her thoughts to a halt and stood still once again, caught off guard by his question. It has been a long time since She felt unease, and understands that if She were to guide this Unded she would need to get use this feeling.

"I'm fine." She assured. "You need not fret over me, My task isn't one without its repercussions after all."

The Blacksmith still remained unconvinced, and began walking forwards. Stopping only when reaching the Bonfire and took a sit. "You say that, but the paleness of your skin says otherwise. Come, talking about the matter at mind will do much good. Tell me."

Truth be told, for so long, there was always a feeling, ever since She resolved to finish Her task, a feeling gnawing away at Her heart. A feeling of guilt. From the first all the way to the current Monarch. All these Undead, brought to their demise by her guiding, by her words.

"Are you sure of this? Hearing the rambles of a mere Herald?" She asked.

"Fire away, I'll be sure to listen." He answered with a smile.

Still She remained unsure and look down at her feet, unable to get the words out, no matter how much She willed herself too. She thought it was foolish to say it, something so trivial. It isn't any of his concerns and that telling him would be a waste of his time, She keeps telling herself.

For a moment, She shifted her gaze into him, and saw him resting upon the dirt, a patience smile on his face, an air of eagerness surrounding him and looked away once more.

Seeing that, The Blacksmith gave an amuse chuckle.

"You don't need to be embarrassed. Worries, no matter how small or how trivial you may find it, are still worries, things that will break you from the inside. Talk to me, so that you may be at ease with yourself."

Soon, She began to realize that he wouldn't budge, no matter how much She protest and finally, after much coaxing, slowly sat Herself on the rocks and recounted a tale that has been replaying itself over and over again in Her mind.

"Long before your arrival, when My duty was at its earliest..."

It was a much quieter time, a time when She was alone in her thoughts, the Feline her sole companion. Undead would frequently arrived through the gaping rocks and as it was her duty, led them to the Forest. Some never made it far, others, were slain by the sword of the Pursuer.

One after the other, hoping again and again, each death becoming less and less of a tragedy and more of an increasing burden in Her eyes. She was growing impatient, not to mention, furious at the Undead's incompetence. Something She'd never do again.

For one day, two others washed up in the land. A Man and a Women. Just like the rest, they too were looking to be rid of the Curse. From their attire, She could tell that they were inexperience in battle and questioned them of their origin.

"Humble farmers." They explained.

Hailing from the Kingdom of Melfia, a land in the South. The two eventually fell in love and swore themselves to each other. But their joy was cut short. Soon after, the Women succumbed to the Curse that had afflicted the Kingdom. The Man did his best to hide his wife's state, but to no avail. Soon, sorcerers showed up at their doorstep with the sole intention of containing the Curse.

In a state of panic and nowhere to go, the two fled the Kingdom, taking only the bare minimum to survive and soon started a life far from the eyes of civilization. The Man did all he could to treat his beloved, but had little effect. It wasn't long until the Women began losing her memories, starting from her earliest. Desperate to cure his Wife, the Man took her and began their journey, which would then lead them to the forgotten land of Drangleic.

She listened attentively to their tale, and when finished, told them that a Cure can indeed be found here. To which the couple immediately responded by asking Her of its location.

Armed with only a daggers and ragged clothing for protection, She knew these two weren't capable of the task and knew this quite well. What She should of done was to convinced them to stay put, wait for another Undead to come by, one that was capable of teaching them combat and hopefully be up to the journey. But desperate as She was to complete her own task, what She did instead, was nodded Her head, spoke the words She told the others and led them on their way, to the Forest and bid them farewell.

Maybe, She thought, that maybe She'd be wrong and that these two are capable of fighting, that slim chance factored hugely in Her decision.

It was a while before She ever saw them again. But saw them She did. Slowly emerging from the pathway to the entrance, swords in hand, armor encasing their bodies, all pillaged from the many corpses they have slain.

Weeks had gone by, and the Forests had yet to be cleared, but slowly they've made progress. On certain days, when the two weren't out venturing, one could usually find them huddled on top of the Monument, leaning against each other, smiles on their faces.

All was going well... Or so She thought.

On one particular day, when the sun was at its highest, the Man returned from the Forest, alone. Walking towards Her, his face filled with distress.

"Where is the other?" She asked.

But he did not answer. Instead, he quickens his pace, tightening his grip at the sword by his side, his face twisting with fury.

Sensing danger, She slowly backed away, but that only aggravated him further. He charged at her with a mighty roar, his sword in mid-swing and missed her by only mere inches.

"What are you-?!"

"YOU'RE TO BLAME!" He shouted, swinging the sword with all his might.

She jumped away from his attack, feeling a gust of wind sweep past her as her hood falls over, exposing Her head, revealing a frightened, alarmed and confused expression.

"What- What happened?" She asked, cautiously moving back towards the monument, Her heart beating rapidly in Her chest.

"She's gone... She's gone. My Loria... Gone." He said through gritted teeth, his face stained with tears.

And with his hand trembling, pointed his sword towards Her, like an accusing finger and muttered again, a crazed look in his eyes.

"You are entirely to blame. You were the one who told her, who guided her, who assured her... that the Cure exists."

She stood aghast, never before had She been in a situation like this and found Herself gripping Her wand tightly in hand, the only means to defend herself.

"I... I'm truly sorry for your loss... I am. But understand, it was not my doing that... that lead to your beloved's demise. She chose this, as did you. Never once had I forced you to forge on. So I beg you, lay your weapon down... and simply... grieve in peace."

Her gaze shifted from the sword to the Man, struggling to fight the paralysis spreading through her body, and saw as he continuously shook his head, his expression twisting even more.

"No no no no no... You killed her. There's no doubt in my mind. You killed her. You guided her, you killed her."

The sword in his hand rushed forward, taking a huge step towards Her. Caught unaware by this, She tumbled backwards to the ground and immediately began crawling back, a moment later, the sword embedded itself deep into the earth, a few centimeters off from its desired target.

"Please... Stop this... No good will come out of this! I beg of you, stop!" She pleaded, unconsciously drawing the wand out in front of Her.

Still the Man would not listen, instead he drew the sword from the ground and slowly, menacingly, walk towards Her, a huge grin plastered across his face.

She watches in fear as he raised the sword high above his head. Realizing her fate, She shut her eyes before the blade struck Her, hoping that at least, it'd be a quick one.

But the blade never came. Instead a horrible shout fills the air, and the sword fell to the ground with a resounding clang. Her eyes flew open and saw the Man with his hands clasping the side of his face, blood sliding off of it and falling to the ground, one eye looking furiously downward towards a figure standing between them.

"Rather quick to cast blames on others, don't you think?"

It retracted Its claws and lay a paw to the ground, Its eyes betraying a hint of irritation in them.

"Honestly, If all Humans think like you do, then the Curse is the least of their worries."

Taking the opportunity, She slowly stood back up. Her sight never once leaving the Man, who too was looking back at Her, a hand still covering an eye, clenching his teeth in pain and breathing heavily.

You best stay away, or I will strike you where you stand! Retribution is in order and I will be the one to serve it!" He spat, quickly picking up his sword.

She recoiled further back at his words, but It stood rooted to the spot, and with a voice that seeks to mock, replied.

"Oh spare me... please."

That alone was enough to further his hostile intent and in a flash, along with a deafening scream, the Man struck at It, swinging his sword without care again and again, madness overtaking his mind as he relentlessly continue to attack without so much as a glance at his target.

His blade made contact with the skin. Yet it did not break. He swung as hard as he could. Yet nothing was slashed away. He yelled and he yelled, his voice growing hoarse by the second. Yet not a peep can be heard from It.

Soon, his arms began to tire and started taking long breaths. It wasn't long until he abruptly stopped swinging, the sword falling out of his raised hands and landing loudly beside him.

"Humans are quick to act impetuous when the mood takes them. You are no exception."

The Man opened his eyes and saw not a scratch on It nor any bits of fur on the ground. The blade did nothing, yet he himself swore he felt each slice, each swing. But there was nothing to show for it, It still stood in between them, without marks from the attack.

"Immortality is a curious little thing to posses." It said, looking up at his mystified expression. "And the most amusing thing about it is the look on others faces when they realize."

While She herself is aware of Its invulnerability, it did not stop Herself from shuddering and and wincing at every blow that came Its way. But seeing the Man now, a lost, sullen shadow of Himself, collapsing to his knees in fatigue and slamming the ground with his fist, She felt her chest ease slightly.

Her momentary relief only lasted for a few mere seconds before She was brought on guard again by his screaming, as he repeatedly smacks his head onto the ground.

Each thundering thud.

Each agonizing shout.

Each droplet of blood.

Reverberated in her Head, the sight of his pitiful state haunts Her eyes, his cries and tears, like a small puppy...

"Stop! Please!"

She broke into action and mustered the will to move her body, running past the Feline and laid herself down on her knees in front of the Man, Her hands on his shoulders, holding tightly to it the best She could, wishing he'd stop.

"Leave him. Human as he is... Hollowing is just another form of insanity, a disease everyone suffers from. Undead or no." It said, walking up to Her side.

Instead, She interrupted his self harm, stopping his head from hitting the ground with Her hands, inches away from the dirt, drops of blood escaping through the slits in her fingers as he continues to push down with all his might.

"Stop. You need not do this any longer, you are not to blame. Torturing yourself will do little in easing your pain. Rest... I implore you... just... rest."

It was a while before it happen, but slowly, surely, She felt it. The pressure in her hands started to lighten. His shouts grew to just mere whimpers and cries. Eventually, he stopped moving and as soon as She felt sure of it, slowly took Her hands away and his head drop to the ground to where it stayed, his tears damping the dirt.

"Why...? What's good the Cure if she's gone? I don't need it... Everything I did... for nothing." He said through whimpers. "She said to stop... She doesn't want me to get hurt... Doesn't want me to turn Undead. I told her not to worry, we'll find it soon enough.

"But her memories... her memories... began decaying faster. Her face, her arms, her legs, decayed. She asked me her name ... She asked who she was ... and all I could do was smile and tell her. Every single time. Do you know how painful it was?!"

She remain silent, deciding it best to have him let it all out, all the sadness, the anger, everything.

"Then suddenly she asked me... "Who are you?" "Do I know you?" and in her eyes I can see, she truly does not recognize me."

"When my back was turned, did you know what she did? She ran at me with her sword. Not responding to my calls, my cries... After so long... She put up a great fight, she did her best against the Curse. All this time...every single day of my life... I thought to myself "She's strong... She would never go Hollow." But then there she was... swinging her sword at me..."

She thought to reach out to comfort him, Her hand hovering slightly above his head, but decided against it, bringing it back to Her side.

"I did what I had to do. I couldn't see her like that... I couldn't just let her suffer like that. I DID WHAT I HAD TO!"

His shout echoed in the corners of Her mind, and suddenly, She felt an aching pressure in Her heart, one She pushed away long ago, now stronger and even more noticeable than ever before. Yes, She knows this feeling. It was guilt.

Guilt, for She was the one that drove them to this. Guilt, because Her guidance led to this. Guilt, because if not for Her, none of this would have happened.

The process of Hollowing is one that can be accelerated through the abandonment of hope and a goal. She knew quite well that the Woman was incapable of such a task, yet sent her anyway. And like many before her, the journey proved too much and though the Man was unaware of it, his wife had given up long ago.

"My only regret now, is not fulfilling her wish, the one she kept asking me, over and over again. "Dear, let's go home."

Once again, She reached out towards him, having no idea how to console this broken soul only for him to suddenly grab hold of Her outstretched arm.

She held her breath, and It extended Its claws again, ready to attack if need be.

The Man slowly lifted his head up to look at Her, tightening the hold on Her arm in the process. Until He was looking at Her face to face.

She wanted to look away, but couldn't. Instead, she found herself affixed to the Man's twisted expression. Blood pouring out of one closed eye, tears in the other. A long gash on his forehead, with blood running all the way down to his chin. Gnashing his bloodied teeth together in anguish.

"And you..." He began, inching closer towards Her. "You... You... You made this happen."

"She would have been fine if it weren't for you... If you've only... IF YOU'VE ONLY..."

And before any of them could have reacted, the man lunged himself on top of Her, pushing Her down onto the ground.

Her mind went blank for a moment or two, and found herself hard of breathing and reached out to her throat, only to find his hands already there, clasping tighter with each agonizing second. Her hands immediately reached for his own, doing her best to fight back, but to no avail. Her vision was fading, her mind was going numb, and all she could let out was a choking sound.

Faintly she could see, apart from the inane, psychotic smile plastered on his face at Her suffering, the body of the Feline, jumping and scratching his face, body, and arms, doing all It could to pry his hands off of Her but to little effect, the Man seemed to ignore any pain inflicted upon him.

"Die... DIE! That way no one will have to undergo what I've been through. No one will have to suffer because of you ever again!"

He shouted these words out loud, but it was little more than a echo to Her. Her strength was fading rapidly and Her vision had gone hazy, soon, thoughts of giving up entered her mind and was about to do so, if not for the small glimmer that caught Her eye.

With one hand, She reached towards it, using the last of Her energy to grab hold of it and after a few grasps of air, finally caught it and without a second thought, She plunged the sword deep into his chest, earning a look of momentary shock from the Man.

Immediately, She took a big mouthful of air and began coughing as a result, placing a hand to Her aching throat.

"Murderer"

The Man looked down at the sword in his chest, the blood pouring out of it, and collapsed forward onto Her, pushing Her down to the ground once again, His face inches away from Hers.

"Murderer"

He said once again, blood dripping out of his mouth and onto Her face.

"Murder-..."

And took his final breath.

For a moment, nothing happened. For what seemed like an eternity, She stared back into his eyes, his dead, lifeless, accusing eyes. Then, tears began to drop from her own, and she wept and wept, without really knowing why.

"Ever since then, I find myself thinking of all the other Undead I've sent. Do they all think of me in spite in their final moments. Do they curse my name with their last dying breath or wish me death in their thoughts? Sometimes I wonder, if Humanity would be better off, have I not been created."

When She was done with Her tale, the Blacksmith remained silent, his eyes fixed onto the fire, deep in thought.

"In this world. There is no such thing as only good or only bad" He said. "You might think that what you do is evil, but without it, Undead would be dumbfounded in their plight. Take the Curse for example, what it does, yes, it is tragic and abysmal, but look, after all these senseless battles Humanity fought over, we are all united as one now, to achieve a common goal."

She thought for a moment on his words, and found herself feeling a bit better.

"I suggest you not think about it too much, and instead focus on helping the Traveler on his journey." He said, clasping an assuring hand on Her shoulder before getting up and moving back to his spot.

Her eyes drifted off to the distance, gazing for no real reason. Then stopped, catching sight of a figure, slowly emerging from the entrance to the Forest.

It was Him.

He has done it...

And without being aware of it, She found herself smiling slightly with each step He took closer towards Her.

"Yes... I shall do just that."

* * *

 **A/N:** Hello, I just wanted to apologize for being really late on this chapter, usually I don't take this long. But I had problems in the real world, and not to mention, schoolwork and also a severe case of writer's block. So I hope this chapter will make up for it. Hope you guys enjoyed it.


	6. The Herald and The Keepers

It's been long since She had been back here.

She never really was fond of dark places.

It reminded Her too much of Her own dark place. A small quiet room, dimly lit by the gap of a single wooden door that separated her from the light she so solely yearn for. Most of her time would be spent staring outside the slit, occasionally catching sight of the shadow of a winged beast only for it to be eventually obscured by a man's.

There again, to bring her outside for only a few short moments, moments she did her best to savor, moments where she would glimpse at the orange sky, feel the gust of wind blow her hair and breath the air of the outside. Before descending down the elevator to another dark room. She hated this room even more than her own, feared it more even. She even had nightmares about it, waking up usually screaming for dear life, before bursting into tears at the images that plagued her dreams.

It wasn't long before her wings were finally clipped off.

Flapping them, and hovering just slightly above the ground was the only form of enjoyment that she had in her isolation.

It was hard to think that they weren't there anymore. Sometimes, in her absent thoughts, she'd try flapping them again. And each time, she was achingly reminded that they weren't there anymore.

The phantom pain would have her tossing about at night, reaching out to comfort them, only to grasp at nothing.

It was a time She wished would leave her mind.

Two large scars were left painfully visible on her back, a sorrowful reminder of what was once something she cherished, disfiguring her skin and as a result, was forced to hide them. She wasn't very fond of dresses. Usually they were tight and uncomfortable to wear. But the insistent shouts of the Man instilled the habit of covering every bit of skin on her body and she had been wearing them ever since.

The cool air of the cavern blew softly on Her face, releasing Her from these past thoughts and walked even faster to Her destination.

It was strange, Her Monarch had come. Had left for the Tower of Flame. But yet, why is it that She sensed another's presence within the Fire? It was obvious that someone other than Him had rested in its warmth, it was only a matter of who it was.

At first, it was hardly something worth acknowledging, but slowly as time passes, the presence became increasingly noticeable. Someone was garnering more and more souls, growing stronger by the second, perhaps even faster than Her Monarch.

She asked the others if they knew anything. The Knight, Blacksmith and Merchant. But none knew anything save for The Merchant who told Her of a strange, terrifying man with a mask, whose mere presence drove him back to His stall but other than that there was nothing more.

The Feline had yet to give Its say in the matter, in fact, it seemed whenever She went to confront It, It'll be soundly asleep, arousing Her suspicions even further. With no other choice, She left to seek answers from an outside source, departing only after strengthening Her Monarch once more for His next venture.

The path She walks was a simple one. A straight narrow walkway, with multiples paths branching off to even smaller caves. But Her journey's end lies just up ahead.

Not much had changed from the first time She had been here, apart from a wooden cart. She also made note of the lighted Bonfire as She reached closer to the door. She raised Her hand, slowly bringing it closer towards the wooden door and froze.

She hesitated. A part of Herself reluctant to face them once again. But the urge to know kept Her rooted to the spot, Her hand inches away from the door. She blinked, took a deep breath, and after another moment of hesitation, knocked.

The door opened slightly ajar, and a Young Maiden answered to Her call, leaning slightly outwards, a hand holding onto the edge of the door.

Immediately, She lowered Her head politely.

"It's you."

The Young Maiden's voice was filled with a mixture of emotion, surprise being the forefront.

"Forgive me for the intrusion." She said, raising Her head back. "But I have come seeking answers. From Them."

She found a questioning stare looking back at Her.

"Answers? Regarding?"

"A matter concerning the Undead that had passed through these doors. May I speak with Them?" She asked.

The Maiden appeared unsure, her lips forming to a frown. She too was aware of the eccentric relationship they both shared.

"If you must..." She finally said, swinging the door open to welcome Her.

She bowed Her head again in thanks, and entered past the doorway. The warmth from a nearby fireplace was the first thing She established once in. Followed by the silhouette of an old woman sitting in front of it, her shadow reaching to the table in the center of the room. Two more woman of similar age sat in their wooden chairs, silently, as if asleep, which She thought they were at first, until another step in shifted them in their seats, the closest turning slightly to look at the visitor before chuckling softly.

-"Imitator of the Fire...A pleasure to see you again." She said.

-"Come to abandon hope, did you? Well... It was a fruitless task to begin with." Said another, sitting close to the first.

-"Hehehe." Followed the woman by the fireplace.

It was rather uneasy to be back here, even more when She was reminded of the dimness of the room. It did not help that She was greeted with the same snide remarks as before. She wanted to leave right away, but kept Her patience in favor for answers.

The Maiden upon closing the door, resumed boiling a pot by the fire, stirring it slowly with a ladle in hand. Of course, She knew She couldn't stare and remain silent forever, so after another deep breath, She walked up to the closest of the three and bowed.

"My humblest respects, fellow Keeper. I have come-"

"I rather you not refer to yourself as one of us... Dear Imitator." She warned, a harsh tone to her words. The others sniggered at Her introduction interrupted, but She maintained Her composure.

"Forgive me." She apologized, lowering Her once again.

"It's fine. Pray you not make the same mistake twice. You may continue."

Hearing that, She raised Her head and resumed speaking,

"I have come to ask you about the Undead... The Ones that come from the fields. May you tell of your more recent ones?"

By the time Her last words were out, the beating in Her chest has grown by tenfold, not even awaiting a Monarch's return could compare to the anxiety She was experiencing. But despite her nervousness, a stoic expression remain plastered on her face.

The silence between Them, the complete lack of response. It was an unbearable feeling. She never knew when They may poke fun, mock, or even just laugh at Her words. It wasn't a secret to know that They too, disapprove of Her task.

"You wish to know of our visitors? Why?" The Keeper asked, amused by the unusual question.

"In the fire, a soul I know not of has begun to glow, someone had rested in the Flames, a Monarch I hadn't spoken to. So I came, hoping that maybe you, the Keepers of the Fire may know of this Undead."

She thought more questions may follow, but instead, the Keeper chuckled again at Her words and soon the others followed suit, much to Her dismay.

"Monarch... is that what you call them? How adorable." The Keeper remarked.

-"Lambs for the slaughter more like." Remarked the other, while the last one gave another chuckle.

A huge puff of air flared from Her nostrils and felt Her cheeks redden. It was nothing worth getting flustered over, but yet She can't help but feel embarrassed by their words.

"Will you tell or not?" She asked again, firmly.

The three stared at Her now, somehow stern expression and quieten down.

"Gladly, we will." Said the closest. "Let us sit and recall all your past "Monarchs" as you call them. All the way up to the more recent ones, shall we? Come, sit with us."

The Keeper gestured over to an empty chair across from herself. She of course, preferred to stand where She was, but the insistent look she gave, gave Her no choice but to do as she asked.

Once She had taken her place, the Keepers, including the one by the fireplace, looked at one another before turning back to look at Her.

"Now... Who shall we start with?"

* * *

It was a long, long talk. One She swore would last for ages. She needn't have to be reminded of the names of all the Undead that came through here... just the recent ones. And yet, whenever She tries to tell them this, or even attempt to get a word in, Her voice would be drowned out by their sudden louden talk.

The Warrior on the Mountain, The Swamp People, The Farmers, The Desperate Prince, A Sorcerer with a rather large hat and many, many others.

Their faces, names and appearance. None of them She had forgotten. Though they had long come and gone, She felt that keeping them in Her memory it's the least She could do to honor their bravery, no matter how little they may have done. So hearing them being talked about and brushed off with such contempt like this, tested Her patience to no end.

To make matters worse, when the discussion of an Undead was reaching its end, they would turn to Her, to question Her of their well-being. And every time, She would give the answer that they already know, just to see them smile and chuckle at the end of it.

It went on and on, and She had had enough of it. To be spite at like this, taunted at, without knowing why, It was maddening. All this, just to know of a Monarch, when She had one already. It wasn't necessary.

But before She could arise from Her sit, a small comment made Her turn to look up at them.

"A mask?" She asked.

Her sudden question brought their discussion to a halt as they all turn to look at Her.

-"Ah... Could this be the one?"

-"A rude one. Walked out on us while we were having a little laugh."

The Keeper by the fire nodded in wholehearted agreement.

"Please, can you tell me more?" She asked, forgetting all the pent up hate She felt up to that point.

The Keeper across from her, having decided it was time to stop their little fun, placed both hands on the table and stared into Her eyes.

"Lucatiel of Mirrah, as she introduce herself. Shortly before the days cease their cycle, She, like all others, passed through our home with the intent of curing herself. However she proved a short tempered one and walked out as soon as she arrived. Nothing more to say really."

-"The mask she wore was amusing to see." added the Keeper beside her, smiling faintly at the memory.

"Yes. other than that peculiar mask of hers, her appearance bore a striking resemblance to another that came long ago... But try as I might, I do not seem to recall the name... I suppose old age has done its work on me."

She immediately knew who was it she was referring to. It took a moment, but when the revelation struck her, a strong sense of guilt washed over Her as strong as a raving sea. Mirrah, there was only one other that came from Mirrah... and he foretold this day would come. How could She have missed her?

She promised him. And She failed to uphold that promise.

She stood up, the chair creaking loudly by her hastiness. The three turn to look at Her in mild amusement and surprise, but rather than wait for them to say anything, She bowed Her head once and after muttering Her thanks, made her way towards the door.

"Wait just a moment, Young One."

Her hand froze midway reaching for the door, and clenched it up in irritation but had it fall to Her side, choosing to obey and turned towards Them once again.

"Yes?" She said, keeping Her voice polite.

The Keepers must have sense this, for they at once began chuckling again. But stopped at once upon seeing Her sudden annoyed expression which was quickly replaced by Her usual blank look.

After a while, the Keeper spoke.

"Have you ever sat and wondered why?"

"Why what?" She asked when there was no elaboration.

Though the Keeper's back was turned, She could tell that what she had to say now, was important.

"Why the Keepers have all gone? Where had they run off to? And why have they abandon the task they pledged their lives to uphold... Have you ever wondered why we sit here and not out there, helping the Undead?"

The words circled Her mind, and once again She found herself curious to know. Indeed, She had been, in Her days of waiting, wondering. Her reason for existing was for this exact question. Coming down from the Aerie, to find a desolate plain filled with Hollows. Told by the Man, to seek Them, learn from Them and afterwards, guide the Undead. This She did, never really knowing why.

"Yes, I have been wondering." She said after a moment of silence. "But an answer shall come another time."

And with that, She pulled open the door, not bothering to look back upon Her teachers, and began Her walk back to Majula.

As she traverse the empty cavern once again, Her thoughts continuously drifts to a conversation She had with the knight of Mirrah, a Monarch She thought of in high regard.

 _"I fear I may be too late to free myself of the Curse."_

She had told Him it wasn't true, try as She might to convince Him of this, Her words continue to fall on deaf ears.

 _"My memories... I find myself going back to them recently... Did you know I have a sister?"_

Then, His mood rose as He began talking about His sister. His face shone, as if the burden on His had been lifted as he He talked on and on about the times they've shared, grew up together, trained together, became knights together.

 _"We used to fence together..."_

She didn't know why He was telling Her this, but listened nonetheless. Perhaps, She thought, he may find the strength to continue, if He talked.

 _"I tell you this... For I fear I may forget. This are memories I have, memories... that I do not want erase. I do not want to forget."_

He spoke this calmly and strong, He did not waver as he continued, but She could sense that He, just like Her, hides under a façade of strength. He regrets... But doesn't show.

 _"But I know it is inevitable... I shall forget and I shall Hollow. And you... Well, I suppose you shall find yourself another Monarch."_

She stared into those eyes, those ocean blue eyes, and though He was laughing as He said it, She could feels the sadness behind it.

 _"My sister isn't one to leave things as it is. My abrupt disappearance won't go unnoticed. She will look for me, I'm sure of it. Perhaps already is. She's a tenacious one, that girl."_

He gave a fond smile before continuing.

" _And when that time comes, where she shall find herself washed up in this miserable place. Promise me, dear Herald, promise me... That you'd be there for her. To be the first thing she sees when she enters Majula. To be the one to guide her, strengthen her... as you have done myself. Do I have your word?"_

It was the first time She had saw him plead. She had grown accustomed to seeing only strength in those eyes, and to see them grow soft and desperate. It left Her feeling uneasy and troubled by the sight of it. But as it was a request from a Monarch, a one She admired at that, She could do nothing but accept.

 _"Thank you... I cannot express my gratitude enough."_

Relief began coursing through his body and saw that he was smiling again. She felt her cheeks redden and did Her best to hide it by looking upwards towards the sky. He too followed Her gaze and together they watch as the sun began to set, coloring the horizon.

 _"My only regret is not being able to see her when she arrives, or fight her one last time. She must have improved much since our last. Her name, remember it... For I fear that I may forget even that. Remember, her name is..."_

"Lucatiel"

Her name escaped her lips as She took a step forward, breathing in the cool air and taking in the view. She felt Her mind at ease, finally reaching Majula and began Her walk towards the bonfire, along the way, noticing a newcomer leaning against the broken wall leading to the forest.

"I shall wait for you, shall you return."

And with that, She approached the newcomer, introducing Herself as She has so many times before.

* * *

 **Author's note:** Really really really really sorry I took so long! I understand that no amount of excuses can make up for the long delay between this chapter and the last, especially considering how long the other one took. But here it is now, and I hope you enjoy reading it. I'll try my absolute hardest to make sure the next won't be as long. I promise.


	7. The Merchant and His Woes

The anticipation was killing him. Long has it been since He has entered his store. And though he believed he has done all he can to tempt Him of his wares, he still couldn't help but feel that he could have done better.

The Merchant sits, on a ragged carpet in a crumbling building, his thumbs twiddling in an anxious manner. Perspiration dripping from the pores of his forehead.

He has returned. Has seen him. His ghostly form slowly materializing from the Bonfire until He was physical. He watched from his window as the Pretty Woman unsheathed a wand by Her side. Then watched as He bow before Her.

This they have done on more than one occasion. After His returned from the Forest and as He entered the Tower of Flames were the earliest he remembered. The Merchant knew from watching this, that after this strange ritual, He would leisurely walk to each of the residents location. First it'd be the Blacksmith, now grateful for the return of his key. Then to the newly arrived, Merchant Melentia, who he outright disapprove of. Before making His way to his stall, then to two others he'd yet to know the names of, the Cartographer in the Mansion and the Feline in the house.

This was the reason for his eccentric behavior lately. Why he would take a glance out the doorway every three minutes, why he would rehearse a tempting offer to an empty helmet, and why he would so frequently need assurance from the Woman that eventually he would be able to finally sell his wares. For no matter how good he thought his weapons are, how sturdy his armor is and how useful his items would be. The Merchant had only, for the remainder of the time He's been here, piqued His interest once.

So now, he sits, the trepidation as he hears the crunching of grass grow louder, closer to his stall, was threatening to have his heart pop right out of his chest. He considered hiding behind the stone counter a few meters away from him, perhaps He'd might go away if He saw no one home. But before he could erase that idea from his buzzing head, a Man entered past the doorway, His shadow casting over him, a blank stare on His face. The Merchant stared back, having lost his voice in his panic state.

The Merchant took a second to take in the sight in front of Him. In His right hand he holds a sword, imbued with the power of lighting, the other, a shield, depicting an image of a blossoming flower. It seems He had discarded his previous sword and shield after his latest venture. And much like His weapons, and much to the Merchant's dismay, the armor He had bought from him too has been replaced by another.

"Oh." He said, doing his best to sound as if he wasn't bothered by anything or had been expecting Him at all. "H-Hello again. I hope you find something of use."

The Man blinked then gave a slight nod, and he showed Him his wares.

It seemed like an eternity before He did anything. The Merchant watched His face closely, hoping, wanting for a sign that shows interest, a spark in his eyes or a twitch on his eyebrows but none came. The Man stared at him, gave a slight bow and walked away without so much of a backward glance, the same expressionless look on His face.

"Always open for business..." He muttered, disappointed and annoyed.

Had He been expecting anymore? After all, the Man had only ever bought one set from him, and never again.

Before this, his mind was drowning in euphoria, having finally sold something in this forsaken land. He remembered sitting back down, still ecstatic over the purchase, while his mind wanders over to dreams unreachable.

He imagined himself sitting upon a throne, admiring the interior of his palace upon a hill, surrounded by his many admirers and served by his rivals back in Volgen. The Pretty Woman even made an appearance by his side, Her eyes glowing with admiration as Her face inch closer to his.

Back then, that dream seemed not so far fetched after all, possible even, to accomplish. But now, that dream has returned to the land of make believe.

"I see business is prospering, as usual."

He looked up to see a Knight, his face smiling in amusement, with his back leaning against the entrance.

"L-Leave me be." He said, his patience wearing thin.

But the Knight did not leave. Instead he walked over to the counter and took a sit upon it, his eyes focus on the Merchant's crestfallen look.

"I wish. But our Fair Maiden is worried for your well-being. Naturally, seeing Her turn towards your stall at every waking moment, I felt compelled to check up on you... for Her sake at least.

The Merchant gave a reproachful look, then got up and stared out the window.

"W-Why couldn't She have a-asked me Herself?" He said, watching Her figure at rest on one of the rocks.

"She feared you may disapprove of Her visiting. After all, She was the one to convince you stay, and of course, She noticed how restless you've become knowing that the Undead had little use for you. Considering this, She might find it- what's the word... awkward to visit you."

The Merchant stared at him.

"Now, this is all just speculation, I haven't asked Her myself but one can simply guess by Her behavior." He concluded, shrugging his arms.

"T-That doesn't explain why you're here."

At this, The Knight's small smile quickly vanished and seemed to have turn to grim. The Merchant seemed to have sense the change of atmosphere and turned to face him.

"I'm here to ease all our worries." He said, leaning his face onto his now clasped hands. "You won't go Hollow now, will you?"

There it was. The word that strikes fear into the hearts of many Undead. The word that destroyed his shelter and kingdom as he fled, his stock the only thing he salvaged from the ruins. The word that would make an unwelcoming appearance in his thoughts, slowly creeping its way at the back of his mind.

"E-Excuse me?" He said harsher than he had intended it to be.

"You might be fine before, but now is the time to worry. As I had witness it, and so have many others, I know you occasionally wander about the place. A faraway gaze, a lifeless walk. I doubt you even remember doing this, or if you had, why you did it."

He did that? Occasionally? A sinking feeling slowly appeared in his stomach, he swallowed but his mouth had run dry. He tried to recall anything he did that resembled what The Knight had told him. But as he was told, he found no memory of it.

"Now's not the time to be in denial, Maughlin. We all know the signs of Hollowing and you seem to be well versed in imitating a Hollow."

He knew it as well, how the Undead behave. He had seen it firsthand, coped up in his makeshift shelter, countless hours spent surreptitiously staring out the holes in the walls, spotting the residents wandering about with a daze look before returning home with no memory of having doing so. Now it seems, he too is being consumed by the Curse, slow as it may be.

"A purpose can delay this inevitable fate. And I know you have one. Only..."

The Merchant looked into his eyes, those lonely tired eyes and wonders how he copes with the everlasting suffering inflicted on the both of them.

"It seems it won't be fulfilled if you are to stay here. I'm sorry, but I think it better if you were to move elsewhere, for your sake."

He felt his heart grow heavy. What The Knight said was true, try as he might to think of an argument. He'd only go Hollow seeing his wares go unsold and himself soulless.

His mind went back to The Man. He remembered how nervous he was presenting his items to Him, it felt as if his chest might burst open any minute. When he had finally sold a set, how he could of jumped for joy there and then. Even back in Volgen, people were not customers but merely passersby, favoring the more popular and trusted stall in the areas.

Now, seeing the armor he had sold, armor he had spent long weeks, forging, crafting with his own hands, unsatisfied until it was to the highest quality possible being nonchalantly thrown away as if it were nothing, in favor of one pillaged in one adventure. Why, it's surprising he hadn't thought of leaving yet.

"I-I understand." He said, averting his eyes to the hard stone floor. "I'll just... pack up my things, I'll go soon."

The Knight stood up from the counter, went towards him and placed a consoling hand onto his shoulder.

"It's for the best. I'm sure you know that." He said.

The Merchant nodded his head in response, unable to think of a response.

"I suggest waiting till She wakes, I'm sure She'd like to say Her farewells to you."

He looked up and found The Knight vanished through the doorway. He watched through the window as his figure grew further and further away until it was once again sitting atop the Monument.

For a second, it seemed everything was back to normal, only for a moment, until the realization of the situation struck him again, his heart growing even more heavy. It was going to be hard to leave, all this time, he thought of this crumbling decrepit house as home of sorts, never having one all his life. It had been given to him by Her, that was the only time in his life where he felt as if he was needed and welcomed. Now... even She won't come to visit, now He's been asked to leave.

He knows it's necessary if he wanted to preserve his sanity, he doesn't want to hurt anybody if he were to turn Hollow. But the thought of leaving, becoming a wandering nomad once again... There was no choice, his purpose for being here has gone.

One by one he packed his things, which wasn't much at all, but he made sure he did it as slow as possible, savoring every second spent in the house for the final time. He rolled up his rugged floor mat, counted his supplies once, twice and maybe three times before he finally allowed himself to move on to other things, only to realize that was all there to it. There was nothing left to do besides saying his farewells.

Will The Man even realize he had gone? Notice a resident missing from the place? Would he even care to begin with?

He sunk down to the ground, many more thoughts each more unpleasant than the last embedding itself in his thoughts, lowering his spirits even more. Maybe he should have given up his dream a long time ago. As he sits there, in deep silent contemplation, he thought that maybe Hollowing wouldn't be so bad after all... To live a soulless empty life, it isn't that much different than what he is doing now anyway.

"Um... Hello."

A voice snapped him out of his melancholic trance. His body went rigid and stiff, not expecting any visitors, especially during his last hours in this place. His tongue let loose by instinct as he looked up, welcoming whoever it was that stood at his doorway.

"G-Greetings! Come and take a look at my w-wares! I'm sure you'd find something that... may... be of..."

His voice trailed off, his lips parted open in mid-sentence, his gaze permanently affixed upon the individual that stand at his door.

"Erm... I'm afraid I'll have to decline, I haven't got much to begin with... But I'd be more than happy to talk if you'd like that."

Her voice... Like a lovely melody floating through the air. Just by the sight of her, all his problems, all his worries seemed to ebb away. Seeing her standing there, her long raven black hair blowing gracefully from the wind of the outside, he felt a serenity he never knew even existed.

"Did I... come at a bad time?" She spoke nervously, mistaking his silence for agitation.

"N-No no! Not at all! Please, make yourself at h-home."

He had been so entranced by the sight of her, it took a while before he realized something was amiss. His eyes grew wide with surprise and confusion by her clothing, that had not been something he thought he'd ever see again.

"Where did you get that?" He asked, pointing at her attire.

There was no mistaking it. He had spent days crafting those leather gauntlets to perfection, weeks on those boots and months on that hard leather chestplate.

"This?" She looked down and did a quick turn with her arms outstretched, sending his heart to a flutter.

"It was given to me by a traveler who saved me. Not long ago, I was petrified, my body turned to stone. I was trying to escape these monsters, you see. But it appeared that I was a little bit too late."

She gave a small smile at her blunder, and he felt his cheeks redden.

"But then this traveler came by and unfroze me. He was very kind, although he did not speak a word. I feared maybe he didn't understand me! But when I asked for a change of clothes, as my own were torn and tattered, he gladly gave me this set without a word."

But he was hardly listening, his attention entirely focused on her enchanting face. She was far from the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but there was something about her, something magical. Perhaps it was her eyes, so bright so full of joy, or maybe it was her smile, so kind and very much endearing.

"May I just add, that whoever made this armor was clearly a master of their craft. So comfortable yet so sturdy, the way it clings tightly to the skin and yet leaves just enough room for mobility. Why, I feel bad just taking away such a magnificent piece of craftsmanship from him."

Her words took a while to register, his ears refusing to believe he had heard right. But seeing the girl toss and turn around just to prove her point said otherwise.

"I-Is that so?" He asked, still slightly adamant.

"Hmm?" She stopped mid-turn and was now looking at him, her expression stating she hadn't heard him well.

"I-I meant... was what y-you said - like...umm." He struggled to find the words, and he was reduced to nothing more than short mumbles and soft whispers. He felt like an idiot and stared at the ground in embarrassment.

His heart pounded, sweating profusely. He feared his blundering and stuttering might have bewildered her, or worse, scared her off. Yet he couldn't think of what to do, his mind a total blank. The silent wasn't helping, wishing The Knight would drop by, dearly hoping for his interruption and yet at the same time, also wanting to remain with her alone.

"I was here quite sometime ago with my teacher. I haven't caught sight of you then, are you a new arrival?" She asked.

He instantly looked up again, grateful for the change of subject and nodded his head, albeit, rather excessively.

"Yes! Yes I-I am. My name's Maughlin. I'm a merchant by trade, would you be interested in some- I mean it's a p-pleasure to meet you!"

His hand was outstretched before he knew it, and instantly regretted it. It was too late to pull back now, he only hoped his hand wasn't shaking as much as he thought it was.

She took his hand, bending forward, and shook. A smile on her face.

"Likewise. My name's Rosabeth and I look forward to getting to know you."

Her hand felt slender, warm and strong in his own and not because of the leather gloves she had on. And before he could think of other ways to describe her touch, they broke apart.

"There seems to be more residents than I remember. Newcomers as well?" She asked, looking out the window and seeing a plump, balding old man exiting a building with a blanket in hand and placed it onto a sleeping figure by the Fire.

"Yeah... Ever since t-that traveler of yours came, many more started appearing into this p-place."

"Well, I suppose I should go introduce myself then." She said, turning back and giving a bow. Afterwards, she turned towards the doorway and began making her exit.

Dismayed by this, The Merchant began thinking of reasons for her to stay and talk. Perhaps if he showed her his wares? Or ask her of her province, maybe?

Her head appeared out of the doorway, a hand right below it touching the wall at the side.

"If you're free, I wouldn't mind talking to you again. I'll be by the Bonfire near the Tower. Only if you're not busy, of course. I wouldn't want to derive you from your business after all." She said.

A lump appeared in his throat, struggling to get the words out, his stomach felt jittery as if in free fall.

"Y-Yes yes! I would love t-tha- I mean that will be n-nice."

"Great! I'll look forward to it!" She said, smiling brightly at him and waved goodbye.

He got up from the floor and walked towards the doorway, then began watching her slowly walk towards the Blacksmith's building, giving a small wave of her hand and another smile. Unknowingly, his own lips too, formed into a smile.

He turn back towards his stall. The rolled up mat leaning against the wall, and beside it, a rucksack filled with his supplies. He stared at it for awhile. Then turned to look at her again.

After a moment, and with a mind empty of worries and a heart no longer heavy, he made his way towards the supplies and slowly, he started to unpack.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Sorry for the long delay once again. I got sidetracked once or twice, mainly because I went ahead and replayed Dark Souls 2 to get a good sense of the characters. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this chapter and tell me what you think with a review. Hopefully the next chapter won't be as long awaited as the previous ones.

 **Update** : Corrected some grammatical errors because I'm good at English like that.


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